


Whatever You Want

by hawksonfire



Series: Bucky Barnes Bingo 2019 [7]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Canon Divergence - Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Deaf Clint Barton, M/M, Multi, POV Clint Barton, Protective Clint Barton, bucky and the soldier are two different personalities, clint loves them both, fruit loops, soft boi winter soldier, splodie-arrow, steve is an idiot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-23
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2020-01-24 06:54:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18566224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hawksonfire/pseuds/hawksonfire
Summary: Clint Barton was born with a soulmark that was cold to the touch. When he turned five, he got another soulmark - and this one was cold too. Most of the time.





	Whatever You Want

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Bucky Barnes Bingo Y1 - Soulbond.
> 
> Translations in endnotes.
> 
> This turned out to be far longer than it was supposed to be.

**Clint**

Objectively, Clint’s soulmark was nothing special. ‘ _ What the fuck is a splodie-arrow _ ’ isn’t exactly something you want to be basically tattooed onto a kid. Still, objectively it wasn’t that strange. Lots of people’s soulmarks had foul language or vulgar words. Usually, the parents just bought a small flesh-coloured patch to cover it, or put a bandaid on it or something of the sort.

What was strange about Clint’s mark is that it was cold to the touch from the moment he was born. Every time someone managed to get their hands on his mark - it didn’t happen often, but a few pitiful glances from doctors and cruel comments from Barney and his father, helped Clint make sure it happened even less - they would cluck their tongue and say, “Oh, you poor boy!”

When Clint asked his mom why they said that, she smiled sadly and stroked his hair. She never gave him a direct answer. And then she died because Clint’s father went for a drive with her while in a fit of drunken rage, so she couldn’t give him a direct answer.

Two years after she died, Clint found out that when a soulmark is cold to the touch, it means the person who would have said those words is dead.

His second soulmark was different. For one, it didn’t appear at birth as most soulmarks did. It appeared suddenly, in a flash of pain, on Clint’s fifth birthday. It was warm to the touch for two and a half weeks, and then it went cold. Clint had the habit of brushing his fingers over his marks for comfort, so the pit of dread that appeared in his stomach when his fingers encountered cold skin rather than the warmth and tingles that he had grown to expect - well, it nearly knocked Clint over.

His second soulmark stayed cold until Clint was eleven. He still hadn’t grown out of the habit of brushing his fingers over them for comfort but he didn’t expect anything from his second mark, just cold skin. 

When it got warm and stayed warm for three weeks, Clint practically kept his hand glued to it. And then it faded and he was crushed. By then, he was with Trickshot so he couldn’t take the time to properly mourn. He just shoved it down and moved on. It happened twice more over the next seven years and each time it went cold, Clint lost a little bit of hope. What kind of person is only alive for a month at most every few years? What kind of a person comes back from the dead?

And then Barney tried to kill him, and as Clint was laying in a ditch bleeding out from an arrow wound - from his own  _ brother _ \- he thought to himself,  _ no way do I die here today. I haven’t met my soulmates yet. _ So he pulled himself up and limped to a nearby town - nearby, in this case, means eight miles away - and collapsed on the back doorstep of a vet’s office.

Waking up two days later in a hospital and realizing that he would never meet his soulmates because they were dead hit him pretty hard. He stayed in the hospital for as long as it took him to heal up enough to walk, and then he grabbed his bow and left, leaving the circus and Barney and Trickshot behind him.

That was the last time the name Clint Barton appeared on official paperwork for five years. 

~~~~~~

When the guy in the suit shot him in the leg, pinned him to the floor and said, “Mr. Barton. We’ve been looking for you,” it made Clint pause long enough for Suit Guy to inject him with some sort of sedative.

He woke up in a hospital-type room three days later - except, this time he was cuffed to the bed and there was an armed guard standing at the door. The guard left as soon as Clint woke up and two minutes later, Suit Guy walked in to find Clint uncuffed and in the washroom, taking a piss.

“Glad to see you’re making yourself comfortable, Mr. Barton,” Suit Guy says, smiling pleasantly.

“Cuffs were child’s play,” Clint says carefully, keeping one eye on the guy's mouth. He didn’t have his hearing aids when he woke up, and he can only assume that they were taken by whatever shadowy government organization Suit Guy works for - oh, he’s talking. 

“- fully compensated for your work, of course.” Clint blinks.

Fuck, he really doesn’t want to have to speak to this guy. He hates talking when he doesn’t have his ears in. So he just shrugs and turns away, putting up a pretense of being calm and unaffected - really, he’s so nervous he thinks he might puke, but it does him no good to show that. 

A hand on his shoulder makes him tense and the hand withdraws, turning Clint around as it does. Suit Guy holds out a pair of bright purple - Clint scrambles to grab his aids and turn them on. The influx of sound makes him wince and he adjusts the volume quickly.

“Perhaps now we can have an actual conversation,” Suit Guy says dryly. He sits in the chair beside the hospital bed and gestures to the bed, wordlessly telling Clint to sit.

“As long as you have something interesting to say,” Clint mutters, crossing his arms. He remains standing. Suit Guy launches into a clearly rehearsed spiel about serving his country and protecting those who can’t protect themselves blah blah blah. “What’s the other option?” Clint interrupts, cutting Suit Guy off.

“Jail,” Suit Guy says, folding his hands in his lap. “Either you work for us on the right side of the law, or we will charge you with all the murders you have committed over the last three years.”

Clint scoffs. “First of all, I’ve been Ronin for five years. Second, there’s no way you know about all the murders I’ve committed or you would’ve shot me in the head back in the warehouse.”

Suit Guy raises his eyebrow. “We credit Ronin with kills numbering in the double digits.”

Clint shakes his head. “That’s from the three years you mentioned, right? Like I said, I was Ronin for two years before that.”

“I assure you, Mr. Barton -”

Clint cuts Suit Guy off again. “Doesn’t matter how good you think your intel is, it’s wrong or incomplete.”

“Care to help us out with that?” Suit Guy asks calmly.

“You’re serious,” Clint says in disbelief. Suit Guy nods. Clint thinks about it for approximately three seconds - hey, he never said he wasn’t impulsive - and shrugs. “What the hell? Sure, I’ll join your shadowy government organization. But I’ll only work with you.”

“I’ll get the paperwork started,” Suit Guy says, and he gets up from the chair to leave. “Mr. Barton? Our doctors found two soulmarks on your person when they did their examination.”

Clint stiffens and has to stop himself from brushing his fingers over his marks - he never did break himself of that habit. “They’re both dead.” Suit Guy says nothing else, just leaves. 

Two months later, Clint is full-fledged SHIELD operative Agent Barton (codename: Hawkeye) and Special Agent Phil Coulson is his handler.

He’ll never say it out loud - Phil would never let him live it down - but SHIELD probably saved his life.

~~~~~~

He only gets in a little bit of trouble when he comes back three weeks late, covered in blood and dragging a sullen Russian assassin behind him. Phil just sighs and gets the appropriate paperwork.

“добро пожаловат в команду, Паучинка,” Clint says, ruffling Natasha’s hair and only yelping a little bit when she digs her thumb into a bruise on his hip.

~~~~~~

New York happens.

_ Loki _ happens.

_ Phil’s gone _ .

For the first time in years, Clint lets his fingers brush against his soulmarks, unsurprised when both are cold. But it helps, so he does it again. He keeps doing it until he realizes he’s sobbing on the floor of his apartment with his hands clamped so tight over his marks that they’re leaving bruises. 

He holds on tighter.

~~~~~~

Ultron happens, and Clint goes cold and numb in a way he hasn’t been since his Ronin days when Nat is taken.

But he gets her back and they go to the farmhouse and Clint relaxes a little bit at the screams of, “Uncle Clint! Auntie Nat!” loud and shrill - exactly the way he normally hates because it makes his aids go fuzzy, but this time Clint thinks it’s the best sound he’s ever heard. He only takes a little pleasure from the look on Tony’s face.

~~~~~~

Clint is in the middle of a mission for SHIELD, somewhere in Romania, when he’s suddenly being shot at. He escapes and ditches all his SHIELD issued gear - except his bow. They can pry his bow from his cold dead hands.

He calls Nat from a burner and has to grab onto a pole for support when she tells him about the situation in DC. She explains what she did with SHIELD’s information and despite himself, Clint snorts. “Это моя девочка,” he says softly and he can hear the pride in Nat’s voice when she starts talking again. 

He doesn’t learn that Bucky Barnes is the Winter Soldier until he arrives at the Tower, squinting up at the sun with his duffel bag slung over his shoulder. Steve tells him - close to tears the whole time - that his long lost best friend was brainwashed into being the Winter Soldier and if Clint doesn’t mind too much could he please help Steve find him and maybe be his friend when Steve brings him back to the Tower?

It takes Clint two seconds - he’s still pretty impulsive - to clap Steve on the back and say, “No problemo, Steve. What are friends for?” 

~~~~~~ 

Clint is the one who convinces Steve to tell Tony about the role that the Winter Soldier played in his parent's deaths. 

Clint is also the one to talk Tony off the ledge when he threatens to kill Barnes if Steve ever brings him back here. “Would you blame me for the people I killed when Loki had me?”

“Of course not, but -”

“Would you blame Bruce for the people that Hulk has killed?” Clint loves Natasha, he really does.

“Well, no, but -”

“We’re not saying you have to be best friends with the guy, Tony. Hell, you don’t even have to like him,” Clint says quietly, “But do not condemn him for being the weapon used to kill your parents."

~~~~~~ 

It takes Steve one year to find Barnes and convince him to come back to the Tower. The day he arrives, Clint is keeping Tony company in his lab, trying to convince him to make special arrows. “Boomerang arrow -”

“When the fuck would you even use that?”

“Paint arrow -”

“Yes, let’s paint the bad guys a picture while they try to kill us.”

“‘Splodie-arrow -”

“What the fuck is a splodie-arrow?” Clint chokes on his candy and falls off the rafter he was hanging from, flipping in mid-air and landing on his feet.

“You alright there, Legolas?” Tony asks wryly. None of the team have ever seen Clint’s marks, except for Natasha. He keeps them covered, and no one asks. Clint waves him off and continues staring at Barnes - who he can tell is getting uncomfortable with the way Clint is staring, but Clint can’t help it.

“You’re supposed to be dead,” Clint says. He immediately slaps a hand across his mouth, eyes wide in horror. What the hell must Barnes have thought, growing up with that on his body?

Barnes goes deathly still and pale white. Steve blinks. “That was unexpected,” he says, watching Barnes carefully. “You okay, Buck?”

Clint catalogues Barnes’ carefully concealed flinch at the sound of his name and breathes in slowly. “I understand if you need time to process,” Clint says calmly, holding his hands out, palms up, “This is not me rejecting you, just giving you space. Steve knows where to find me if you want to talk.” Clint gives a little wave to Steve, salutes Tony and heads up to his room, keeping some semblance of calm even as his hands shake and his chest tightens.

As soon as his door closes behind him, Clint’s shirt gets torn off and thrown to the floor. He stands in front of the mirror in his bathroom and hesitantly brushes his fingers over his second soulmark. It’s still cold, and Clint lets out a little sob - of relief or disappointment, he couldn’t say - and takes a deep breath before twisting around and pressing his hand to his other soulmark. 

He jerks his hand away with a hiss, then stares in shock. Hesitantly, he presses the tip of his finger to the ‘o’ in ‘splodie’, jaw dropping open at the warmth that flows through him at the faint touch. Clint slumps to the floor and presses his whole hand to the mark, grinning like an idiot. 

He must be there for longer than he realizes because Natasha is suddenly crouching in front of him, eyebrows creased slightly - which for her is basically throwing her arms around him and sobbing. “What are you feeling, Clint?”

“Warm, Паучинка,” he says breathlessly, “I feel warm.”

The crease between her eyes disappears and so does she. Clint hears a faint  _ click _ as his door closes, but he takes no offence. She’ll come back if he needs her. Abruptly, it hits Clint.

“Holy shit,” he breathes, keeping his hand pressed to his mark, “I have a soulmate.”

~~~~~~

Clint doesn’t see hide nor hair of Barnes over the next two weeks. He only sees Steve once and the man jumps when he spots Clint in the kitchen at four am, looking like a cornered animal. His eyes dart back and forth as Clint watches him, amused. “If he wants to talk, I’m around,” Clint says simply, and he claps Steve on the shoulder and walks out of the kitchen.

Clint’s waited this long to meet his soulmate - a little longer won’t hurt anybody.

~~~~~~

It ends up being two months after Barnes showed up at the Tower that Clint sees him for the first time. It’s an accident, honest. Clint’s just had a bad nightmare for the first time in a while and he knows that the only thing that will make it even  _ slightly _ possible for him to go back to sleep is shooting arrows into a printout of Loki’s face until the smug bastard’s stupid grin is just a giant hole.

He walks into the shooting range and freezes, eyes drawn to the shape of Barnes’ silhouette in one of the lanes. Barnes tenses up and Clint says, “I can go if you’d rather be alone.”

He waits in the doorway until Barnes jerks his head towards an empty lane, then he pulls his bow out of its case, grabs a few standard arrows and stands in front of his regular lane. 

_ Draw. Aim. Release. _

When Barnes realizes he’s not going to try and make conversation, some of the tension drains out of his shoulders - not that Clint is watching.

_ Draw. Aim. Release. _

Barnes fires his gun and it’s only when he sees the gun recoil that Clint realizes he doesn’t have his aids in.

_ Draw. Aim. Release. _

Clint shrugs internally. He couldn’t make conversation even if he wanted to - not in this lighting, anyway. Too dark to read lips.

_ Draw. Aim. Release. _

_ Draw. Aim. Release. _

_ Draw. Aim. Release. _

_ Draw. Aim. Release. _

_ Draw. Aim. Release. _

Clint fires and fires and fires until he reaches for an arrow and finds his hand grasping at air. He looks down and sees that he’s run out of arrows - and despite his shoulders aching in a way that he  _ knows _ will hurt tomorrow and his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath, Clint feels grounded - whole, even. Nothing else gives him this feeling. He turns to ask Barnes to stop firing only to find the other man already looking at him, expressionless.

When their eyes meet, Barnes flushes and turns away, quickly putting his gun back in the proper place and walking out of the range. Clint shakes his head and hops over the barrier and collects his arrows, dropping them on the table labelled ‘Hawkeye’ and going back to his room. He can probably sleep now.

~~~~~~

Barnes is at the range the next time Clint goes down in the middle of the night, a week and a half later. Clint offers to leave, again, and Barnes shakes his head, again. This time Clint made sure to put his aids in, just in case. Clint fires his bow and has to stop himself from speaking to Barnes several times, snapping his mouth shut every time he catches himself opening it to say something that will likely drive away Barnes for good.

“I do somethin’ to offend you?” Barnes growls, suddenly barely a foot away from Clint’s face.

Clint puts his bow down slowly and raises an eyebrow, unruffled. “Excuse me?”

“I know I’ve got the fuckin’ Winter Soldier’s background hanging over me, but I figured you of all people would understand that I didn’t have a choice in the matter,” Barnes spits, eyes blazing. 

Clint blinks. And blinks again. “I do understand?” He says, but it’s more like a question. 

“Then why did Steve tell me that you said you didn’t want to talk to me?”

Clint blinks again. “I never said that.”

Barnes throws up his hands and spins around, scowling. “Then what the fuck did you say to him? He comes into my room looking like a kicked puppy and tells me that you’re not interested in me so I should just forget about you. Next thing I know, you’re in here with me telling me you’ll leave if I want you to and firing that stupid bow with your stupid arms and -” Barnes abruptly realizes what he’s said and stops talking.

“When did Steve tell you that?” Clint asks.

“‘Bout a month and a half ago,” Barnes mumbles.

Clint snorts and shakes his head. “Steve’s a moron. He saw me in the kitchen and froze. Just fuckin’ staring at me like an idiot. I said that if you wanted to talk to me, I was around.” Clint watches Barnes’ face carefully. “I was trying to let you make the choice to approach me or not, and Steve must’ve taken my caution as disinterest.”

Barnes’ face cycles through a fuckton of emotions in the span of half a second. “Steve is a moron,” Barnes grumbles, crossing his arms.

Clint shrugs. “Well, I’ve known the guy for four years now, I’m pretty much used to it.” 

“Wait ‘til you’ve known him for as long as I have,” Barnes snorts.

“I ain’t livin’ that long,” Clint jokes, grinning a little bit. He abruptly notices how close they are, and apparently so does Barnes, because he jerks back, a slight flush on his cheeks. “Look,” Clint sighs, “I understand if you want nothing to do with me. I spent so long thinking my soulmate was dead, I’ll take you in my life however I can get you,” he shrugs, helplessly, “Even if that means you just wanna be friends.”

Barnes scoffs. “Yeah, no thanks, pal.” Clint feels his face fall and Barnes quickly says, “Have you seen you? I’d keep you around for your arms alone!”

It takes Clint a minute to process that, but when he looks up at Barnes and smiles, Barnes grabs him by the shoulders and yanks him into a kiss.

It’s like coming home. And yes, Clint knows how cheesy that sounds - but the feel of his soulmate’s lips on his, his hands on the back of Clint’s head and his cheek... “So,” he says when they pull apart, panting, “Does this mean you don’t wanna be friends?” 

“Why do I get stuck with all the blond idiots?” Barnes says, rolling his eyes and kissing Clint again - which was kind of Clint’s goal, so he’s not gonna argue.

~~~~~~

It’s a week later - a beautiful, beautiful week later - that James discovers Clint’s second soulmark. They’re laying in bed, shirtless, and James is tracing his Words on Clint’s shoulder blade when Clint rolls onto his back, exposing his ribcage accidentally. He doesn’t think much of the way James’ fingers stop moving on his skin until - 

“You have two soulmarks,” James says, voice flat.

Clint turns his head carefully to face him. “Yeah, I do,” he says, “The other one’s been cold since I got it when I was five.” He doesn’t mention the flashes of warmth he still sometimes gets - figures it’s just one of those weird soulmark things that can’t be explained.

“I’m sorry,” James says, pressing a kiss to Clint’s shoulder. Clint knows he’s not apologizing for just the one cold soulmark.

“Not your fault,” he says easily, “Just means I lo- appreciate you all the more.” 

James doesn’t comment on his near slip, just presses another kiss to his shoulder and holds him close.

~~~~~~

Clint is in the kitchen one morning, around two am, and James walks in - or at least, it sounds like James. “Do you want some Fruit Loops?” Clint asks absently, searching through the cupboards for an extra bowl. Silence from behind him. Clint turns around to find James an inch away from his face and he yelps, slipping off the counter. He braces himself to hit the floor - but he never does. He peeks an eye open to find himself being held, bridal style, by - this is not James. This is very much not James. “Thanks. Wanna put me down?”

The Winter Soldier carefully places Clint on his feet, keeping his hands on Clint’s hips and staring at him. Clint shifts on his feet, unsure about how to proceed.

Sure, he knew that the Winter Soldier still came out to play sometimes. What he should be doing, Clint knows, is signalling JARVIS to get Steve and Tony out of bed so they can subdue the Soldier until James is back in control. Clint doesn’t know why he doesn’t do that. 

“So, do you?” Clint asks, breaking the silence. “Want Fruit Loops, I mean. There’s plenty to go around.” The Soldier nods jerkily and takes a step back, releasing Clint from his grasp. Clint grabs the bowls and milk and cereal and spoons and sits down at the counter, pouring out far too much cereal. “Delicious,” he says through a mouthful of the sugary cereal.

The Soldier stares at him, then flicks his gaze to the cereal box. He narrows his eyes, turns to Clint, and says, “в них нет фруктов.” Clint chokes on his cereal, spewing milk and half-chewed Loops all over the counter. The Soldier leaps up and pats him on the back hesitantly, worry filling his face. “I did not mean for that to happen,” he says slowly. He’s rubbing Clint’s back and Clint is trying to ignore how good it feels.

“It’s okay,” Clint soothes, “You did nothing wrong. I just swallowed too much, that’s all.”

“I will... not be punished?” The bowl Clint’s holding in his hand shatters, sending milk and soggy cereal bits flying everywhere.

“No,” Clint says steadily, trying desperately to keep the rage he feels out of his voice, “You will not be punished. Not ever again.” The Soldier looks at him doubtfully but doesn’t argue.

Clint cleans up the mess he made silently, inwardly seething with rage. He’s going to hunt down every single one of those Hydra chucklefucks who decided to hurt this man, and he is going to kill them. Slowly and painfully, and he’s not going to stop until they are begging him to end their suffering. And then he’s going to keep going. “You are angry.”

Clint blinks. “Not at you. Never at you,” he assures the Soldier.

“There is no one else here.”

“I am angry at the people who hurt you,” Clint bites out. 

“Why?” The Soldier sounds so damn confused as to why anyone would be angry on his behalf, and it just makes Clint madder.

“Because you are a person, and you do not deserve to be treated the way they treated you. They all deserve to die,” Clint growls, knuckles white around the dishtowel he used to mop up the milk.

“I am a person?” There’s the confusion again.

Clint walks towards the Soldier, stepping into his personal space and cupping the Soldier’s face in his hands. “You are a person,” Clint says fervently, “And you never have to do anything you don’t want to do ever again. You will not be punished for anything, ever. Anything you want, you can have.”

The Soldier looks lost. “Anything I want?” Clint nods. “I want...” The Soldier trails off and Clint waits, not moving from where he is standing. “I want the thing that is called a hug.” Clint immediately wraps his arms around the Soldier, pulling him close and holding him tight. The Soldier doesn’t seem to know what to do at first, but eventually his arms come up and loosely wrap around Clint. After a few seconds, the Soldier says, “I want to be let go now."

Clint pulls his arms away and steps back, keeping his face pleasant. “Want anything else?”

“I need a minimum of four hours of sleep every three days to function at maximum capacity,” The Soldier says, brow furrowing. “I need... I  _ want _ to go to sleep.”

Clint nods. “Do you have your own room to sleep in or would you like to stay with me?”

“Does  _ he _ stay with you?”

“James does sleep in the same bed as me, yes.”

“I would like to sleep on my own,” the Soldier looks at Clint and bites his lip. “But I do not want to be alone.”

“Okay,” Clint says simply, and he leads the Soldier to his and James’ bed. “If you want, you can stay in here. I’ll be on the couch outside if you need me. Sleep as much or as little as you want, there are clothes that will fit you in the lighter dresser and my clothes are in the darker one. If you need or want to, you’ll have to touch me to wake me up.” The Soldier nods and Clint leaves, slumping onto the couch and putting his head in his hands. 

“I’m going to murder every single one of those bastards,” Clint mutters, fully aware that the Soldier can hear him. With that, Clint pulls out his aids and puts them on the side table by the couch, tossing his arm over his eyes as he stretches out on the couch. 

Clint falls asleep only after two hours of planning out the murder of every single Hydra agent that every laid a hand on the Soldier.

~~~~~~

Clint wakes himself up by falling off the couch and landing on the floor. “Aw, couch, no,” he mutters. He rolls over and squints up into the light, pulling himself up blearily. He fits his aids into his ears and stumbles into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes and yawning.

“Morning, Clint,” Steve says.

Clint grunts in response, searching for a coffee mug - then he blinks and whips around to see James and Steve sitting at the table, looking disappointed. Well, Steve looks disappointed. James just looks like James. “Cap. Soulmate.”

James cracks a grin and Clint winks at him. “Will you two take this seriously?” Steve says, exasperated.

“Take what seriously?” Clint says, sliding his mug under the coffee machine.

“The Soldier took control last night, Clint, and you didn’t call me and Tony down to take care of it.” Steve crosses his arms. He looks mad now.

“No, I didn’t,” Clint says, humming with happiness as his mug is filled with coffee.

“Would you like to explain why?” Steve asks. 

“Not particularly,” Clint responds, slurping at his coffee. 

Steve goes exactly three shades redder. “Hawkeye...”

Clint rolls his eyes. “Fine. The Soldier came into the kitchen around 2 am while I was making cereal - because I was hungry, Steve. I offered him some Fruit Loops, he told me there was no fruit in them, I swore to kill every Hydra agent who put a hand on him, gave him a hug and sent him off to bed.”

“And that’s it?” Steve pushes. “Nothing else happened?”

Clint shrugs. “I choked on some cereal and broke a bowl.”

“You - what?”

“I choked on some cereal and broke a bowl,” Clint says slowly, “And then I reassured the Soldier that it wasn’t his fault and he wouldn’t be punished.” Steve gapes at him. “Did you know, Steve,” Clint says conversationally, “That the Soldier had to be convinced that he was a person? I had to explain to him that it was not his fault Hydra treated him the way they did. I had to tell him that yes, I was angry, but I wasn’t angry at him, I was angry at the people who hurt him. He asked me why, Steve. He asked me why I was mad at the people who hurt him because he doesn’t think he’s a goddamn human being!” Clint abruptly realizes that he’s shouting. He takes a deep breath, and says much more calmly, “So no. I did not call you or Tony because I knew that you would shove him in some dark room to wait until James came back. I don’t know how often he’s come out before last night, but what I saw made it clear to me that he has not been treated the way he should have been while he’s been here.”

Steve and James stare at him, faces pale. Clint dumps his still half-full mug of coffee down the drain and puts the empty mug in the sink. “You know, he asked me for a hug last night.” Clint sees James stiffen out of the corner of his eye, but he keeps going. “I think it was the first time someone touched him without causing him pain.” With that, Clint walks out of the kitchen and heads directly to the shooting range, seething with anger.

He spends three hours there, hurling knives at the wall. James comes into the range about two hours in and just watches him for a while, letting him work off some of your anger. “He’s your other soulmate,” James says as he walks towards Clint.

“Yes.” Clint won’t deny that.

“Does he know?”

“I don’t think he knows what soulmates are,” Clint bites out, whipping another knife at the wall.

“He does.” James sounds so certain. Clint looks up at him and the pain on his face makes Clint forget all his anger. 

“Hey, no, don’t do that,” Clint says, rushing to pull James into a hug, “I’m here.”

James lets Clint hug him, shaking in his arms. “Soulmates were explained to the Soldier,” James says quietly, “As was the fact that soulmates were a threat to the mission and if he ever met someone that said the words on his ribcage, he needed to kill them immediately. It was beaten into him.” Clint swears softly. “That’s part of why I avoided you for so long after we said each other’s Words,” James says, “I thought that if I saw you, the Soldier would take over and kill you.”

Clint doesn’t know what to say. Normally, he’d make a crack about how the Soldier could try but he wouldn’t succeed - but he knows that’s not true. So he just stands in silence with James, holding him close. James abruptly raises his head and steps back, looking Clint in the eye. “If he appears again, can you tell him what soulmates are? And explain our... unique situation? I want him to be as happy as I am, but he can’t do that if he doesn’t know.”

Clint is nodding before James even finishes. “Of course.” He kisses James softly. “I would be glad to do that. I want him to be happy too.”

~~~~~~

It’s another week before Clint sees the Soldier again. He’s propped up on his and James’ bed, playing some shitty game on his phone while he waits for James to get out of the shower, when there’s a thump and a yelp from the bathroom. “You alright in there?” Clint says, looking up when James doesn’t respond. “Hey, you okay?” Clint knocks on the bathroom door gently.

“I would like some assistance.” And that’s the Soldier. Clint blinks.

“Okay, is it alright if I come inside the bathroom?”

“Yes.” Clint opens the door, only for it to be shut in his face. “But no looking!”

“I won’t look, I swear,” Clint says, covering his eyes. “My eyes are covered.” He feels the door open and he takes a couple steps forward to enter the washroom. 

“I remember you,” the Soldier says, seeming surprised. “You were... kind to me. You gave me the lying breakfast food.”

Clint grins. “Yep, that was me.”

“Where am I?” The Soldier sounds suspicious.

“Avengers Tower,” Clint says, “Same place you were last time, except James was in the middle of taking a shower when you showed up.”

“I’m sorry,” The Soldier sounds very small, all of a sudden. 

“No, no!” Clint rushes to make him feel better. “It’s okay, you didn’t do anything wrong. That’s just the reason you were in the shower.”

“I did nothing wrong.”

“Not a thing,” Clint agrees. 

“I will not be punished,” The Soldier says, sounding slightly more sure of himself.

“Not ever again.” Clint’s hand is removed from his eyes and he blinks at the onslaught of light. His vision clears and there’s the Soldier, standing in front of him soaking wet and starting to shiver. “Hi.” Clint beams at him.

“My body temperature is not optimal,” the Soldier says, his brow furrowing again. “I want to be warm.”

“What you want, you get,” Clint says easily. “I can bring clothes in here for you to choose or we can go into the bedroom and you can look through everything.”

“I want to look,” decides the Soldier. He takes a couple steps towards the doorway, stopping abruptly when he realizes Clint is in the way. 

“I can get you a towel so you’re not cold while you choose what you want to wear,” Clint offers. The Soldier nods, teeth chattering, so Clint leaves the bathroom and grabs the warmest, fluffiest towel they own, handing it over to the Soldier once he gets back. The Soldier wraps it around his body, still shaking. 

“Clothing now?”

“Clothing now,” Clint agrees. He sits on the bed and watches the Soldier cautiously approach the dresser - Clint’s dresser, he notes with some surprise.

“This is yours,” the Soldier says, pointing to the darker piece of furniture. “That one is  _ his _ .” Clint nods. “I want to wear your clothes.”

“Whatever you want,” Clint says, gesturing at his dresser. The Soldier ruffles through his clothes for a few minutes, occasionally glancing back at Clint for reassurance - who nods and smiles every time, no matter how much his heart is breaking. 

“These will suffice,” the Soldier says suddenly, straightening up. When he shows Clint what he chose, Clint can’t help the bark of laughter that escapes him. 

“No, no!” Clint kneels on the bed and holds out his hands, trying to stop the Soldier from shrinking in on himself. “It’s not you, it’s me! That sweater is one of my favourites, that’s all. I didn’t even know I still had it.”

“I can still wear it?”

“I said whatever you want,” Clint says firmly, “If you want that sweater, you can have it.”

“I want it.” The Soldier drops the towel and Clint’s eyes shoot towards the ceiling. “I have finished,” the Soldier announces softly.

Clint looks at him and grins. The Soldier is wearing an old purple hoodie with a target on the front and worn sweatpants - he looks adorable. And Clint tells him so. “You look adorable.”

The Soldier flushes pink and shifts on his feet. His brow furrows suddenly. “Are you supposed to tell me something?”

Clint blinks. “Yeah,” he says slowly, “How’d you know that?”

“ _ He _ told me,” the Soldier says quietly, pulling the sleeves of the hoodie over his hands. “I would like to know why  _ he _ wants you to talk to me,” he adds, and now Clint can’t say no. Not that he would’ve anyway.

Clint pulls a breath in through his nose. He probably should have prepared for this more. Oh well. “You know what soulmates are?”

“Threat to the mission,” the Soldier says, looking like a rabbit ready to bolt.

“Is that what you think they are, or is that what they told you they were?”

“I - what they told me. Is it wrong?”

“Yes,” Clint says, lip curling. “Soulmates are...” Clint doesn’t know how to explain this. “Different for everybody. Sometimes they’re like me and James -”

“Fuzzy chest feelings,” says the Soldier. Clint blinks.

“Sure. Sometimes soulmates are fuzzy chest feelings and sometimes soulmates are like Tony and Rhodey.”

“Sunshine on your face.”

Clint nods. “Exactly. Most people only have one soulmate, but some...” Clint hesitates. “Some people have two.”

“Do I have two?” The Soldier cocks his head and looks at Clint in confusion. His hand drifts to his ribcage unconsciously and he looks down at it, surprised.

“As far as I’m aware, you have just the one,” Clint says carefully, “I know James had one on his left arm before -” Clint coughs.

“Before me,” the Soldier seems sad about this. “That’s another thing I took away from him, then.”

“You didn’t take anything away from him,” Clint says, getting up and moving towards the Soldier. “Hydra took it away. You are not Hydra. You are good.” The Soldier shifts on his feet silently. “But yes. James’ soulmark was on his left arm. Do you know when yours appeared?”

The Soldier’s eyes narrow even further. “September, 1984.” 

Clint gives him a little half-smile. “September 18, 1984, right?” The Soldier nods. “Yeah, that would’ve been me.”

“You - we - I don’t -” The Soldier starts to hyperventilate and Clint pulls him close, tucking the Soldier’s face into his chest. 

“Breathe, okay? Just take deep breaths for me, there you go.” The Soldier matches his breathing to Clint’s and the two men stand in silence for a few minutes before the Soldier pulls away and takes a few steps back.

“You are my soulmate,” the Soldier says softly.

“And you’re mine,” Clint says.

“I don’t belong to anyone,” the Soldier snarls, eyes flashing.

“No, you don’t,” Clint says quietly. He lifts one shoulder apologetically. “And yet.”

The Soldier is  quiet for a few moments, and then, “Is that why you choked on the lying cereal?”

Clint snorts. “Yes, that’s why that happened.”

“Are we fuzzy chest feelings or sunshine on your face?” The Soldier’s voice and face are unreadable. Clint doesn’t know what to say.

“That’s not up to me,” Clint says carefully.

The Soldier huffs. Clint half-thinks he’s going to stomp his foot. “Why can’t you choose?”

“Because first of all, it’s not just you in that body,” Clint sighs, “And while James and I are fuzzy chest feelings, if we aren’t that then a serious talk will have to be had.”

“Talk, shmalk,” the Soldier says - and then he takes three steps forwards and plants a kiss on Clint’s lips. Clint freezes. 

“You can’t just -”

“James wants this, Clint,” the Soldier says, staring intently, “I want this. You want this. I don’t understand what the problem is.”

Clint scrubs his hand over his face with a sigh. “The problem is that I don’t know how to sure that I won’t cross any boundaries with you. Either of you.” The Soldier opens his mouth to object but Clint stops him. “I don’t ever want to hurt you. You’ve been hurt enough for a thousand lifetimes.”

The Soldier gapes at him, then growls. “Fine, you talk to him, then,” he mutters, closing his eyes. When he opens them again, it’s James looking out at Clint.

“How?” Clint says, shocked.

“We talk,” James says shortly. “Look, Clint, we all want this. I don’t understand -”

“I told you!” Clint says, louder than he’d like, “I don’t want to hurt either of you!”

“We trust you!” James cries. “We trust you with our life - but more importantly, we trust you with our heart. Why can’t you see that?” He turns away and scrubs at his eyes. Clint’s heart breaks.

“Aw, no, c’mon James, don’t - don’t do that,” Clint moves to wrap James in his arms but James throws up a hand, stopping him.

“Is it... is it us? Are we the problem?” His voice is small. Clint hates it.

“No!” Clint says fiercely, cradling James’ face in his hands. “It is one hundred percent not you. I want nothing more than for the two of you to be happy.”

“We’re only going to be happy if it’s with you,” is the response he gets - and fuck, Clint was not expecting that. “You’re it for us, Clint,” James shrugs. He blinks. The Soldier crouches down in front of Clint - when did he get on the floor? - and says, “I want fuzzy chest feelings.” Clint hesitates. What if he hurts them? What if - and then the Soldier says the one thing that could push Clint over the edge. 

“You said whatever I wanted, I could have. Has that changed?”

“No,” Clint swears vehemently, “Never.”

“Well, I want fuzzy chest feelings.” The Soldier sounds petulant, like a child asking for a candy bar. It makes Clint laugh and just like that, his doubts fall away.

“Okay,” he says, smirking at the Soldier’s baffled glance. “Let’s give it a shot.” And then they’re kissing and Clint can’t tell if it’s James or the Soldier and he honestly doesn’t care. Hands pull off his shirt and brush over his soulmarks and Clint shouts in surprise. 

“What’s wrong? Did we do something?” And the concern in that voice is all James’ but the head tilt... That’s the Soldier.

“No, it’s just...” Clint tentatively touches his soulmarks again, looking up at his soulmates with tears in his eyes. “They’re warm. Both of them are warm.” 

James’ eyes widen and the Soldier scrambles forwards. “Can I feel?” He asks, hands hovering over Clint’s Words.

“Always,” Clint assures him and then there’s a metal hand on Soldier’s Words and a flesh hand on James’ words. Clint’s world lights up and he worms his hand under the purple hoodie and finds his Words - and his other hand is on the metal arm, just above the elbow and James is gasping and there’s tears and laughter and kisses and Clint honestly feels like his heart might explode.

~~~~~~

Objectively, Clint’s soulmarks were nothing special. ‘ _ What the fuck is a splodie-arrow _ ’ and ‘ _ в них нет фруктов _ ’ aren’t your typical soulmarks, but really, there’s nothing special about them. Except for who they belong to.

James finally gets to see a splodie-arrow in action when Clint uses one to distract him - or, uses one to try and distract him, anyway. He ends up dropping the ring and the sound of metal landing on concrete was enough to make James turn around and when he saw Clint down on one knee, he nearly passed out. 

The Soldier rolled his eyes as he caught them on a wall, then furrowed his brow when Clint pulls out a box of Fruit Loops. “у них есть фрукты.  Я обещаю **,** ” Clint says sheepishly, laughing as his soulmates nod furiously and practically jam the ring onto their finger. “That a yes, then?”

“You said whatever we want,” James says, pulling him into a kiss.

“And we want you,” the Soldier says when they release him. 

Clint grins. “It’s a good thing I want you two, then, isn’t it?”

**Author's Note:**

> добро пожаловат в команду, Паучинка = Welcome to the team, little spider.  
> Это моя девочка = That's my girl.  
> в них нет фруктов = There is no fruit in these.  
> у них есть фрукты. Я обещаю. = There's fruit in these ones, I promise.
> 
> Thanks to my Official Russian Person for doing the things in other language! Love you!


End file.
